


An Alienation of Affection

by moon_opals



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Feels, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Parenthood, Proud Mama Goldie, Sad Mama Goldie, parental angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 02:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_opals/pseuds/moon_opals
Summary: "I swear we are not starting another rebellion.""This is more of an uprising than rebellion, but tomato tomato."All Goldie wanted was to go on a high risk, high stake heist with her girl. Was that too much for a mother to ask?





	An Alienation of Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Neopuff’s “Firsts.” Specifically Chapter 4. If you haven’t read it now, please do. It’s an amazing read. 
> 
> Before she was a Trash Aunt, Goldiemama was doing her best as a Trash Mom

It was September 1993 or 1996 (hard to say in a timeless demon dimension) and Goldie was trapped in a glass box suspended thirteen feet in the air - surrounded by winged imps jabbing her with glass slicing spears as they recited every degrading failure of her year, all due to a modest merchant’s tip.

His intent proved faulty, not his tip. She could claim similar motives, though her goal was modest in scope - a jewel that made its wearer impervious to burns.

As a proper adventurer risk and expenses were estimated, but her initial estimate proved higher than calculated.

A minor inconvenience, she reassured her partner, and one that wouldn’t deprive her - Goldie O’Gilt - of her rightfully pilfered prize. So there was no reason to contemplate where the error lay, though she knew exactly where to pick had she wanted to.

“Your informant claimed the Demogorganans vacated the Lower Temple,” Opal said dryly, as if insulted at the lie rather than their impending doom. “Shocker.”

Goldie rolled her eyes and huffed, dropping her cheek into her palm. “This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t whining about your birthday,” she derided.

“I was studying the temple murals,” she glared. “And who’d want to celebrate their birthday like this,” she crossed her arms as she fell back in a bejeweled chair. “Della is going to rub the Powerline concert in my face. I just know it.”

“Powerchord?”

“It’s Powerline, and you know it.”

“He isn’t Glittering Goldie.”

”He isn’t Dolly Patridge either.” 

Goldie sneered, thrusting her finger at the girl. “Do not mention that woman’s name,” she warned, “she knows what she did.”

With a scoff, Goldie circled their argument to back to its beginning, “And what? Attending a concert is more important than spending time with your mother?”

“When said mother plans a last minute heist and gets us imprisoned by demonic imps for the sake of getting a jewel she lost ten seconds after grasping it because she refused to apply baking soda for her sweaty palms -,”

“I was excited.”

“You were thoughtless,” Opal glowered. “And this is stupid. Happy birthday to me.” To emphasize this was the anniversary of her birth, she slumped completely into the chair - an affront to her posture lessons.

Her crystal prison was similar with some differences. A comfortable chair, a bowl of fresh pomegranates - cold and uneaten, the imps had taken an unusual shine to her daughter. But this did not surprise Goldie, this prisoner was a teenage girl.

As another spear struck her arms and legs and she grumbled, Goldie sighed and looked aside, resigned. She didn’t want to admit disappointment. There was a chance to retrieve the necklace. It hadn’t fallen far. What remained of their relationship was the issue.

Whether this was common or acceptable in mother-daughter relationships, Goldie couldn’t say. Her relationship with her own mother was often fraught with unspoken words, bitter silences, and unreasonable expectations. Leaving as soon as the opportunity arose, be it financially or pure circumstance, was the best she could do - she and Gilda.

_You also left her behind...whispered a voice...And now you drag your hatchling into this disgusting pit from where she will never see the sun’s light ever again._

“Hey,” she snapped, moving to the left just as another poke readied to puncture. She gripped the pole tightly and smirked, jerking it towards her. The imp was caught unaware and didn’t release its hold. Its face went smack dab into the glass. Cuts tangled in leather green-black skin, and blue blood seeped out. The impact was harder than it looked, and the imp fell back, wing span closing as it descended, lost in a burning darkness below.

Goldie pulled the spear in completely and raised it, knowing she was outnumbered. The imps bellowed and bore yellow, sharp teeth. She needed to think and think quickly; get out fast, get Opal at the same time, or -

“Your left wing is damaged."

A concerned voice disquieted them. Their attention was pulled away from each other and to the right where Opal stood, staring.

“I mean,” she smiled sheepishly. “A damaged wing means extra work, extra work means straining your limits. You can’t rest as easily, but c'mon, we aren’t going anywhere.” she motioned to a rock pillar that had cracked in two. “Please, rest.”

To Goldie’s surprise, the limp winged imp nodded pitifully, flying off to its new perch.

The others glared, changing their spears' direction.  
  
Goldie smashed the spear against the wall. "If you touch her -,"

Opal clasped her hands and assumed an expression of concern. “I’ve observed a lot today, and I don’t like what I see. You look absolutely parched. When was the last time you drank from the Plague Plains of Abaddon?”

Mumbled discontent.

“I see,” she nodded. “You’ve pledged allegiance to your demogorgons lords, and I respect your decision. But I must ask, based on your pillars and statues, if your treatment is fair. I mean if not for you, who would your lords lord over? If not for you who would guard their treasures and riches? Their Eye of Demorgona?”

Wide eyes and audible gasps, they murmured amongst each other. Goldie stood speechless and looked aside to her fourteen year old daughter. Her posture lessons resumed, and she stepped as close to the edge of her prison without bumping into the wall.

“How are you to serve anyone in this abode,” she asked, gesturing to destroyed pillars and rotted monuments. “How are you to live? You are imps...yes...but you are descended from The Great Demorgon. You are Demogorgon. Why accept less?”

_This hatchling speaks truth...we are treated cruelly by our lords...unjust...unfair._

_We have served them for millennia...and yet we too were born from the same hellish loins._

Our children are gifted shackles at birth...we have...

“We can help you,” she encouraged. “Can’t we Mom?”

Goldie blinked as they returned to her, and she nodded dumbly.

“Y-yes, of course,” she squeezed out. “But give me the details.”

“Temple murals describe the first uprising when your lords and ladies wrestled power from your ancestors,” she explained. “The First Ones, or The Old Ones - my Demorgorgonan is immature - used the Eye of Demorgona as a symbol of hope. Able to burn away deception and false hearts.”

She waited as her speech’s implications were measured. Goldie watched as enlightenment widened their perspective and darkened their skin.

_Why can’t we...Can we...Is it possible?_

_Our ancestors were warriors...so are we...why must we live in decay._

Goldie chuckled. “Their temples aren’t this shoddy,” she grinned, twirling the spear and stopping it on its dull end. “Don’t you think they’d have enough for renovations.”

“I think they do,” Opal reassured. “Complicated defense mechanisms defend their homes. Why is it they can’t provide livable wages and housing? Are you slaves?”

Their murmurs, reluctant and afraid shifted to righteous fury. They raised their spears and lashed; as their volume strengthened, so did their call. Their screeched to the others hiding in halls and tunnels and other crevices they didn’t know about.

_We must defy the Lords...all of them...cruel and fatten with greed. For our children! For our future!_

Their release was met with applause and a safe landing.

“The murals describe a secret passage into the Elders’ quarters. Isn’t that where the Heads live?”

_Yes...the greatest lordsssss...its where they dine and cheer._

“You can start there,” she smirked. “Send your strongest warriors. We may be able to capture them, if not execute -,”

“Opal.”

“What?”

“You’re not fighting in a war, not again,” Goldie groaned. “Your father would never forgive me if you were hurt.”

_I’d never forgive myself_ was more apt, but that wasn’t the here or now. Goldie didn’t study Scrooge’s claim on the importance of bonding time at this crucial age - not that she asked him about it or anything.

He knew her intent. He knew her. 

“I want to do this,” Opal said earnestly. 

“What?”

”Mom,” she pled. “Unionizing is a good offer, but D’weiki explained what happened last time someone tried to talk to their lords of equal treatment.”

Strangling the girl was an option, or strangling the man responsible for this foolish sentiment. _But then I’d miss his_...no, distractions wouldn’t help this time.

Goldie whacked her wrist in response, dragging her behind a pillar. “Give us a moment,” she called to the imps, “we’re going to discuss battle plans.”

“Mom, you aren’t serious,” Opal wrenched her wrist free. She massaged the red imprints Goldie left behind and glared. “You wanted to me to join this heist? I did. And now, I’m doing something that matters.”

“Something that matters,” Goldie snorted. “You mean something that’s going to get us killed.”

“We’re not going to die.”  
  
“No, we’re not because you aren’t helping.” Goldie stood back straight, “We came here for the Eye, and your bumbling made sure we’d never get it. Opal Prudence,” she sighed, “your distractions cost us a great profit.”

Looking away, she massaged her temples, mapping a new strategy to escape detection. Goldie was tired, and Opal was a disappointed. She focused on one and did her best to ignore the other.

Maybe I should’ve sent her to that stupid concert…waiting in the car wasn’t too inconvenient. She could’ve snuck backstage for some memorabilia to resell later...Two times the value.

Goldie didn’t notice Opal closing in, grasping her palm to drop something hot and cold at the same on it. Pulled away, she drew her brow close together as she raised the jewel.

“Is this,” she didn’t - couldn’t believe it, but the truth was in her palm. The Eye of Demorgona twinkled mockingly, and Goldie swallowed, throat thick. “How did you?”

“The plan was to make you believe the Eye was lost,” Opal explained flatly. “I’d get it appraised and sell it for twice it’s value.”

“How?”

“The merchant had a little black book.” She waved a black notebook over her shoulder as she ran off, “You focused on his words. I focused on his belongings.”

“Opal Prudence,” Goldie shouted. “Don’t you dare start a demonic crusade.”

“Already started,” she climbed atop of one of their backs. “And it’s a rebellion,” Opal corrected, smirking as dark wings flapped heatedly.

“To liberation,” she cried.

“Opal.”

She was gone in an instant, and Goldie ran to the edge of the opening. With a disgusted grunt, Goldie ran to another waiting imp and gripped its wings. Its howl told her all she needed to know, but she didn’t wince at its reddened snarl.

“Listen you wannabe gargoyle,” she twisted its wing painfully. When it snared back, she used its leverage and grabbed an ear, forcing it to look at her. “You’re flying me down there.”

The imp screeched, kicking its feet to beat her off. Goldie’s will was stronger and so was her grip. For good measure, she kicked her heels into the beast’s sides, and she bent close to its ear

“If anything happens to my nugget, I’ll dance in gold over your cold, rotting corpses,” each syllable was dipped in acid, and she waited several seconds for the promise to sink in.

Her intent cleared its understanding and possibly, so did her voice’s edge. The imp quieted instantly, whimpering weakly.

“Good,” she smirked. “Take me to where they’re going.”

Goldie pacified her anger and fury tearing at each other inside with the thought of an impending grounding, but another passion rested irritably on the side. 

_Impressed._..no, the damn child was going to get herself killed...but she’d accomplished something Goldie hadn’t estimated. It was this underestimate that led to a daunting realization about parenthood. Goldie buried it, pressing her body firmly on the imp's flesh. Anger, worry, she'd focused on that rather than sorrowful pride waiting underneath.

**Author's Note:**

> Their relationship was something I’ve wanted to write for a long time but didn’t know where to start. Goldie is a con artist and takes it seriously; she wants to pass her skills down. Their relationship predictably hit a strained point during Opal's teens, and they slowly came back together in her adulthood. It definitely went smoother than Opal and Scrooge's reconciliation.


End file.
